Redemption
by SicK UniT VinZ
Summary: What happens when one of the worlds finest, Goes wrong? And one of the worlds worst, Finds a second chance? Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1: The Return

_Redemption can be found by seeking it. Can't It?_

The lights had gone out at nine. They always went out at nine. At least he thought it was nine. Granted, There was no clock on the wall, or his wrist. Nor was there a window to look out from, or a person to ask. But it felt like nine. or nine thirty at the most.

He wrapped his arms around his legs, And rocked gently back and forth, Muttering to himself the same thing he had always muttered to himself, Whenever the lights went out at nine. or nine thirty. He would tell the darkness how sorry he was. He would explain to the silence that screamed at him nightly, How he would do anything to take it all back. Every last bit of it. No matter what it cost him. And just like every night before this, at nine, or nine thirty. The silence remained silent, The darkness remained lifeless, and his eyes remained tearful, As his voice remained unheard, Until consciousness left him at last.

And how horrible a nightly fate, He found it to be. As in his dreams, The four windowless walls, With no contact to the outside world, Except for the tube in which his food was delivered, Broke apart and vanished. Spiraling into darkness, He was soon returned to the world he knew before. The world that had once made sense to him, That comforted him, and that drove him, Before..before everything changed.

The apartment he couldn't wait to get out of, The dingy bar he hated, and could receive work from nowhere, but. Even the little old lady, Who sneered at his existence for so long, Seemed a bit sweeter, a bit kinder..And not as Alzheimer-ish as she was in reality. But as his smile began to form, and his eyes opened to the light that now, finally, had returned the warmth to his pale skin..The darkness cracked, and broke through the pleasantries, Returning him to the bright red hatred that flowed from his lips, and the envious madness he coddled for so long, Leaped back into his arms.

Thrusting out from the bed, He ran about the small room. Trying his best to get the imagery from his mind, To shake it out of his ear, or expel it from his nose, Like a snot rocket barring the access of air. He even tried to pull the sound that flooded his ears from his throat, With two fingers, Only to remove that day's dinner, instead.

Falling to his knees, He looked to the ceiling, and clinched his eyes as tight as he could. And once again, He begged the darkness to understand. Demanded that the silence answer him..But both were ignorant of his pleas.

Or so he thought.

Eyes fixated on the man, He leans forward, and places his hand on a large panel, Sliding a small lever up to a green section just above the red, where he had left it last. Audio surrounded him, Echoing off the dark, metal walls all around him. His brow furrowed, And his teeth, now false, and held in place by a horrible tasting paste, Grinded against one another, Like the tectonic plates of his city had done so many years ago, With almost as much noise.

For years, Decades, He had tried to reach him. Tried to break down the walls of psychotic thoughts and actions, To get to the real person that had somehow gotten buried beneath all of the maniacal plans, and homicidal day dreams, And find what was once a normal, functioning man. And this, This observing silence, That only one other in the world knew he kept, Was as close as he had ever gotten, And would ever get. And nothing about it felt anywhere near right. Not to him, Anyway.

Watching, He waited until the man exhausted himself once more, And cut the feed. Rising to his feet, He stepped to the ladder just a few inches behind him, and climbed up, Quickly closing the entrance he had gone through every precaution of hiding for the past 23 years. And heading into the deeper end of the cave he had spent most of his life in, and, most likely, Would spend the last of his life in, as well. Looking back at the door only he could see, He spoke a single word, And a low humming began directly after. Anyone else who entered the cave, Would simply confuse it for the sound of a TV set being left on, With no channel, and no white noise. Even those with super hearing would not be able to identify its source. Nor would one with X-ray vision, As the led plates lining the small room, Made sure it, and all included within, Were safe from peering eyes. As all could be found in one man. And that one man, Is the last person he would want to know what he was doing. Or who he was doing it for.

The sky of Gotham was brighter then normal, As Wayne Enterprises CEO Dick Grayson stared out across the city. Recognizing many of the rooftops that sat stories below his current location, He thought back to the first legacy Bruce Wayne had give to him, As the current one quickly interrupted it, In the form of a female voice, Calling him from a small intercom on the corner of his desk.

"Mr. Grayson." She said, With confusion and fear, Tainting her voice. "There's a reporter here to see you."

Taking a deep breath, Grayson turned toward the desk, and picked the intercom up, Holding it in the palm of his hand. "Marcy..Since when do I take visitors of any kind..Let alone reporters?"

"I'm sorry...But Mr. Kent said it was urgent."

Eyes widening, Dick Grayson, CEO, and Multi-millionaire, Sat down in his chair, and rested his right temple, On the tip of his right index finger. Before closing his eyes, Inhaling a single breath, and passing his words along his exhaled breath. "Send him in, Marcy."

The two large doors opened, And in walked a mountain of a man. A light brown suit, Most likely worn as a way to look unthreatening. A pair of wire framed glasses, Chosen for the unstylish look, And a blue tie, Worn for the simple reason that Clark liked Blue. He was in all ways, The perfect disguise for anyone who might think that he, and the United States Greatest Hero, and Clark Kent, Mild Mannered reporter, Were one and the same. Unless of course, You were one of the very few, Who knew they were one and the same. Then, You only called it what it was. A fraud. And in many ways, It wasn't the only thing about the man, That you could call that.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Kent?"

"Dick..I need to talk to you..and him..But..you first."

"Of course. Because you can't get to him without me."

"Yes. I know."

The two became quiet. Each looking at the other, and expecting more then the silence between them. One expecting a smile, The other, Something nowhere near as innocent.

"You need to know how sorry I am for what happened. Had I.."

"Its too late for apologies, Clark. If you wanted to apologize, You should have never ran away. Hiding, Like some scolded child. You should have faced what you did, Like a man. Like all those who you passed judgement on for so many years, Were forced to do, by you."

"I couldn't. I didn't see then..Most people, They can't understand what I went throu-"

"I can, Clark. So Can Bruce, And Cassie, And..Tim." A single tear fell from the eye of Grayson, Who quickly turns his chair away from Kent. Forgetting his X-ray vision, And His super hearing, And simply hiding this feeling, For himself, and himself alone. " We all lost someone special to us, Clark. Not a single one of us went as far as you did. Yes, We did try, But someone was always there to pull us back."

"I guess that its my fault then..That no one could pull me back in time?"

"..Clark..In some cases, You were the one that pulled us back. You were the one, Who we all thought would pull you back. Not one of us thought otherwise. And unfortunately, Not one of us, Were right." Standing up, Dick kept his back to his visitor, And leaning against the large pane of glass in front of him. "You can let yourself out, Clark."

Kent turned toward the door, And made three, out of the seven steps towards it, But stopped before he completed. Turning back around, He made his way across the room, Faster then Dick Grayson was ready for, And angrier then Clark would have liked to be. Standing face to face with him, Dick Grayson, CEO and former sidekick to The Dark Knight, Stood, His eyes unwavering, In their stare with a pair of raging, blue eyes.

"I will accept the guilt of what you, Bruce, And Cassie went through, Dick. But if you ever mention Tim Drake in my presence again, You will find out just what that judgement you speak of, Feels like."

And in a flash of light, Clark Kent was back at the door, Walking out like any normal man, of normal means, would. Smashing his hand against his desk, Dick grimmaced as the wood broke, and splintered, Leaving a fist sized concaved hole. Sitting back down, He picked up the phone, Which was now on the floor, and began to dial, As a mask of hate took over the blank stare found there earlier.

"It's me. He's back."

All that is heard from the other end, Is a single clicking noise. And all that is seen on the face of Dick Grayson, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, Is fear.


	2. Chapter 2: From The Past

His heart skipped a beat, and his forehead gathered a bit of sweat. As did his hands, his underarms, and many other areas that one could find perspiration formed. But, Unlike one might think from looking at this man, It was not nervousness that shifted him this way. But pure, and untainted anticipation. As finally, After 5 years of waiting. Waiting for the chance to hear his side of things. Waiting for him to explain himself, the way he had made so many others do, for so long. Was almost over.

Standing from his chair, He spoke out to no one, "Initiate BS-12. Level, 4." And beyond his echo, No voice answered back. But a response was received. Lighting up the room, The large monitor quickly processed his command, and set in motion several laser traps, all green in color, and locked down every exit and entrance to his location. Except, for one.

And there he stood, Waiting for him to dare show, As he had for years. Waiting for his excuses, Waiting for his reasons, Waiting for the same bull that he had heard from guilty men all his life. And He does not wait long at all.

With a flash of blue and red, He stood before him, at a distance, As he was the last time they met.

"Hello, Bruce."

"What did I tell you?"

"..We need to talk."

And it was those words, that he had said so many years ago. The headlines had been filled with grim news for those in their line of work. Their adversaries had gotten more dangerous, more out of hand. But none more then his. Tired of being faulted in their attempts to defeat him. They banded together, as one cohesive unit. And in their troubles, They had taken from him the one thing that had kept him grounded, Kept him sane, Kept him safe. And in removing that, they also removed his reason for letting them live.

"You realize that anything you have to say won't be heard, Don't you? After all, What's good for the geese..."

"DO NOT PATRONIZE ME, BRUCE!"

He paced the floor, sneering at the synthetic Kryptonite Lasers that kept the distance between He and Bruce a guarantee, and looked on at the man who had toiled relentlessly to make sure of their competence against him.

"I expected you to understand, Bruce. You, of all people, Should know what if felt like to…to go through this. I know that you had to try, Try and get through to me…Like I had for you. But, it wasn't acceptable. I wasn't ready to hear it. Just like you weren't when Jason Tod-"

"DO NOT invoke that name, Clark."

"I gave up being Clark Kent. He is simply a mask to me now, Bruce. The same way you and Batman were always one. So are Clark Kent, And Superman."

"There is no more, Superman, Clark. Superman was Infallible. He was untouchable by any and all outside circumstance. He was rock steady in his beliefs, and nothing could shake the ground in which his foundation was built upon. That changed, when you changed."

"Can you say that if you were me, you'd have done things differently?"

"I don't answer hypothetical questions, Clark. You know that."

"Well then let me ask you a real one. How's **HE** doing?"

Eyes narrowed, Bruce looked deep into his red, vibrant eyes, and wondered. He wondered how he could have known. Perhaps the lead wasn't thick enough. Perhaps the Kryptonite liner had grown weak. Or perhaps, in the scariest of possibilities, These things no longer affected him.

"How did you know?"

And in a flash of blue, He was gone. With nothing in his place but floating dust, and the faint sound of two soft spoken words, hanging in the wind like a dream catcher.

"I didn't."

Turning away he walked back to the monitor, and sat. Resting his head in his hands, He spoke to no one once more.

"Activate audio/Visual Log, Date, March 13th, 2011, Onward."

"AUDIO VISUAL LOG, MARCH 13th, 2011 AND ONWARD, COMMENCING."

Resting his back against the leather interior of the chair, He looked upon a much younger version of himself, Battered and bruised, Seated in the exact same chair, With cape and cowl hanging off his back, and blood flowing from several wounds all about his body.

"March 13th, 2011. A car bomb was activated outside the daily planet. Killing three people in its detonation. Victims include a hot dog vendor by the name of Jason Cerelo, An investment banker, Roger Marsh, and…Daily planet reporter, Lois Lane. Responsible parties are believed to be Toy Man, and Lex Luthor. Evidence of Toy Man's involvement include a small detonator, Shaped like an action figure of Superman's likeness. Luthor's involvement was determined by his comatose body found nearby. How he got that way has yet to be determined, But he's been moved to S.T.A.R. Labs for further study."

Watching as his hands shake, and voice cracks, Bruce closes his eyes tightly, and slowly leans forward, Gagging on the throat closing sadness that slowly overcomes years of mental stability, and reduces him to nothing more a bag of emotions, As his pre-recorded, and much younger self, Does the same on the monitor in front of him.

"and on a more personal note, Unbeknownst to the public, Lois Lane's husband, Clark Kent, Also known as Superman, Has seemingly lost all control of his emotions. Comparing him to myself, After the loss of Jason Todd, The second robin, I can only say that I could not imagine stopping until I brought the person responsible to justice. The positive side to this, Is that those responsible are already dead…or close to it. The negative side, is that I'm not entirely sure he's willing to accept that. End Transmission."

"March 15th, 2011. Superman, Alias Clark Kent, Has gone renegade. Despite warnings from myself, Batman, Alias, Bruce Wayne, And Green Lantern, Alias, Hal Jordan, He has gone off to locate every last one of his enemies, In an effort to expunge them from the very planet. Victims so far include Brainiac, Darkseid, and Metallo. Green Lanter, Martian Manhunter, Steel, Alias, John Henry Irons, and myself, are hoping to cut him off, Before he does anything else that he will regret. This may be my last transmission. End Transmission."

Standing up, He turns his back to the screen, and commands it, "fast forward, June, 23rd, 2011." Reacting to his command, the computer goes blank, and two seconds after, A visual of himself, Dressed in a black suit, Stands before the monitor. Behind him, A young man with black hair, Wheels a redhead toward a gallery of suits standing against the wall. Lit up within, We watch as they each look at the green, red, and yellow suit, pressing their hands against the glass, and joining their free ones, tightly, as their bodies lightly vibrate. His voice cracks, As tears flow uncontrollably, and his head falls at an angle.

"Ju…June 23rd…2011. The third Robin, Alias, Timothy Drake, Gave up his fight with the depression that all of us watched him struggle with for the last two months. After watching someone he idolized, and trust, Run rampant on any form of villain he could find, Robin became despondent, and emotionally unstable. Many of us hoped that something would snap in the boy, Perhaps remind him of what I tried to teach him. But we were wrong. After leaving the Cave at 2 am. Witness reports all match the same story. He arrived at the 'Iceberg', The club owned and operated by The Penquin, Alias, Oswald Cobblepot, and sought out the criminally insane individual known to us, Only, as The Joker…In which led to the loss of his life, By what appears to have been, His own request…A note in the young man's room at Wayne Manor validates this theory. The letter reads as follows…

'Dear Bruce, Babs, Cassie, and Dick.

By the time you find this, It will be too late. I will have gone. I didn't want to leave a letter. I didn't want to leave anything. I wanted you to believe this to be an accident. I wanted you to remember me fondly. But I needed you to know something. Something I could never tell you out loud, But fear you all seen.

When he who's name we no longer speak, Did what he did, I agreed with him. I voiced a different opinion, and acted the part that I thought you'd want me to. But every last bit of me wanted to be there with him. No, I wanted to be HIM. I wanted to be the one tearing apart every super villain, and crook that I could find, limb from limb. I wanted to feel their blood hit my face, And know how the fear in their eyes looked, as I slowly stole their life from them.

I know your all going to blame yourselves for this. You'll all think that you could have stopped it. But you couldn't of. I made up my mind before I even realized it. I just hope that my reasons for picking him, Are validated. As if him killing one robin, and crippling a Batgirl, Doesn't get you to pull a superman on him…Then maybe the second death in this family, will.

I love you.

Tim Drake.'"

Standing with the letter in his hand, He turned to see Cassandra Cain fall to her knees, As the sound of sobbing demanded his attention. Rushing over to her, Bruce drops the letter onto the control center, and mutters a command to the computer quickly, While tending to the dramatized girl.

"End Transmission."

Standing with bowed head, Bruce looked down at his wrinkled hands, and scarred knuckles, and he thought. He thought about the years he spent on the rooftops of the city above, Struggling with the shadows, and the lines between good and evil. He thought about how he had tried so hard, to make a change for the good in the world around him. And how his attempts have brought more sorrow then anything else. And then, He thought about the end. His end. Would he have done anything positive to change the world? Or would all he's ever done, Be in nothing but Vainity?


	3. Chapter 3 For The Present

"This is Home" He thought to himself, As he floated motionless, Just outside of the Earth's atmosphere. 5 years gone since he saw it last, and almost 30 since he set foot on it, And amidst all of its changes, It was still the same. The way the sun warmed all beneath it. The sky's crisp feeling as he glided through it, And the clouds which hung in its grip. In fact, The only thing that had changed about his home, Was the people.

Before his exit from their world, He was looked upon as a Hero. A mythical creature of limitless possibilities, and infinite strength. He was in every way, their savior. Or one of many, He told himself. But since his return to this planet, their voices had silence in the speaking of his name. The newspapers all but denied his existence. Emergencies were reacted to with immediate response, by other heroes, who quickly thanked him for showing, but took care of it on his own. He thought, for a second, that they did not need him anymore. Only to come to the realization, a much more painful one, that they simply, did not want him.

Uninformed of the happenings after he left, He decided to use the years he spent as a reporter, and find out just what occurred. Tearing into the Earth like a comet, He came down onto the streets of New York, and cracked and smashed the pavement with the ease of a child squeezing a wet cracker. Watching as every human in the area quickly dispersed, Saying nothing, showing nothing, He simply felt nothing, And took his path into the large, library ahead of him. The doors shut with force, and quickly began to glow a vibrant, cherry red, as he super heated the door, Barring anyone of normal means of entering, and disturbing his efforts.

Miles away, In shelter further beneath the Earth then even the location of Altantis. They gathered. Those who had taken to enacting a contingency plan, In the likes of such a return, By the man who's name none can bear to mention.

In attendance, was a group of men that the universe had come to depend upon, with almost unfailing certainty, for protection, and guidance. And here they sat today, with that very idea in mind.

Standing up, The now keeper of OA, and guardian of sector 823, Hal Jordon looked to his compatriots, and lifted his head upward. "I hereby bring this meeting to order. Having not had one in quite sometime, I feel it would be a waste of time, and energy to even bother addressing the former meeting. As we all know what we now face."

Taking a deep breath, Hal Jordan raised his fist from his side, and addressed the wall to his left. A small green picture of He whose' name they dare not speak appears, And an uneasy feeling quickly spreads about the room, at record speed.

"In what we all predicted, But wished for otherwise, The being known as Kal El of Krypton, Has returned to this sector once more. Having been exiled by himself, For reasons obvious to us all, Not one of us can claim this unexpected. As it is the very reason we came together to begin with. Unfortunatley, As we never did settle on a plan of action for such a case as this, we are sadly at square one, as far as a course of action is concerned. I know that we all have our own ideas…but if we leave this room without coming to terms, one way or the other…then I fear we not only leave ourselves defenseless…but our people, our planet, and our universe as well."

A hand appeared from the shadows, And Hal Jordan, Green Lantern, Acknowledged it immediately. "Bruce, please."

"As for our previous meetings, The contingency of the black out has begun. John Jonz and Zartana have already begun to block him from hearing his name, But they assure me that some things do get through. Of course, I've made sure that they knew the importance of keeping this meeting, first and foremost. But in the time this meeting takes, Someone, somewhere, Might forget what we told them, and…well, expeditiously is the word of the day, gentleman."

"Agreed." He said from beyond the green hood hanging over his face. All eyes turned toward him, Not one of them was happy of the Vengeance's inclusion in the group, But all agreed that it was a needed sacrifice. As without guidance, The spirit might do something unwanted, and set He whose' name they dare not mention, Back onto the path they last saw him walking. "But the urgency of the situation is not to stop him from hearing what the public perceives him to be, Batman." Bruce had told him a thousand times to stop referring to him as that, But as far as Vengeance was concerned, His spirit was Batman, Just as his own was Vengeance. "The urgency, is to stop him, period."

"Spirit, We all know what has to be done…" spoke the faint voice of Billy Batson. Having grown into that of a man, But still of child-like mind, as far as his place amongst the heroes. "The question, Is how?"

Silence followed his question, As all knew each had their own ideas. And all knew that each, Had an aversion to the others. Except for one.

Standing in his crimson suit, All eyes glared at the gleaming lighting bolt set in the center. He had been one of the originals. One, Who like He who shall remain nameless, Vanished and returned, Sometime later. But it was not disgrace that chased Barry Allen away. It was death.

"We all know that we can sit here all night, debating each others plans, while pushing our own. But the fact of the matter is, not one of our plans will work by themselves." And he placed his hand in the center of the table. A symbol of something long forgotten. A bond once shared, Not out of necessity, But of want. A want for a better world. And what was the point of all this, if not that? "Lets make them work together...By working, Together."

One by one their hands were placed upon his. And they stared into each others eyes, Each silently reciting an oath that they swore would never be uttered again. And each realized, That never before, Had they meant it so much.

"Okay then. Let's get started."

Sitting back down, They watched, listen, and participated, As each member gave the best laid plan they had, While including the functional points of anothers. And slowly but surely, Each felt a better feeling about the confrontation they had always knew was coming, And had always wanted to avoid.

But further away, In an environment just as dark and dreary as that in which they had entered earlier. Something of an opposite ideal was about to take place. One which, not one of them, Could have ever predicted, Or have any hopes of stopping.

He sat on the edge of the bed, Staring at the light, And waiting for it to be silenced. Wondering, still, just what time it was above the surface, where the world he has forgotten, and vice versa, exists. And in the moment he finally blinks, the light is silenced. The darkness is restored. And the quiet, that he has been left in since the day he entered this cell…is broken.

"Hello." A voice said, Scattering him to the underside of the bed, with the sheet pulled around him.

"Who…who said that?"

"A friend."

"Last time I checked, I didn't have any of those. Thanks."

"Last time I checked, You weren't the type to scream for forgiveness in your sleep. But things change, do they not?"

Crawling out from under the bed, He looked up at the ceiling, and scratched his ear, As confusion took its toll on his expression.

"Who are you? How long have you been watching me? What time did this light go out?"

"Me, I'm the key to your redemption. And I haven't been watching you as long as some people…And it's 9:33."

"thought so." A grin took up the corners of his mouth, As he sat down on the bed, and leaned his head back onto the pillow. "So, Redemption, huh? Do go on."


	4. Chapter 4: Of Like Mind

His cape draped over a small wooden chair, He contorted his muscles, and concentrated on keeping himself light enough, As not to crush the chair into splinters. He often wondered if any other person ever had to do such a thing. Cocentrate on not breaking a chair. Maybe, if they did. Maybe they'd understand.

They'd understand how hard it was for him, for all those years, To sit and play the part he had accepted when he was barely old enough to know better. How so many times he had to hand over some despicable piece of crap, who's only contribution to the world was taking the existence of someone else from it, and knowing all the while, that the hardest punishment they were going to get were 3 hot meals, and cable television. Something some good, and morally just people in this world, Could never get. Maybe they'd understand him, and why he did what he had to do, if only they knew what he really wanted to do.

"…bruce…what did you do…"

Headline after headline scrolled in front of him, each getting worse, and worse, with every audible flip of switch. Sitting forward, He clutched the front of the seat, and looked deeply into the screen, as he read each and every word he had missed, with more then he'd like to admit, being about him.

No, not himself.

**Him**.

Stopping on one particular headline, He squints his eyes, Trying his best to maintain the calm that he's been able to obtain over the last five years, With all of his outwardly might.

'Bomb At Bugle' His eyes see, And quickly close there after. He does not need to read the rest of it. Because he already knows it by heart.

"Lois Lane, Executive Press, Was killed along with two others yesterday morning, when an explosive device activated just outside the doors of the Daily Bugle. Severe damage to the building, and sidewalk, According to authorities, was that of 4 times what they have ever seen, giving them an indication that it was meant for much more then personal use.

Although most of the windows on floors 1 through 14 were blown out, and several holes now sit where cement used to be, the infrastructure of the building has remained in tact."

He continues to read aloud, eyes tightly shut, Until behind him, a dark silhouette appears. Falling from the ceiling, It rises slowly, long, dark, leather-like cape rubbing against the floor. Silent to the rest of us, including the man wearing it. Deafeningly loud, to the man in front of him.

The chair bursts into a cloud of dust and splinters, as his hand squeezes it with all of his might. And in his usual blur, He zips across the distance between himself, and the man.

The Batman.

Staring into his eyes, He smiles, and begins to walk around him, Looking him up and down, As any man would, when faced with a true legend of days gone by.

"funny. You seemed bigger before."

"why are you here?"

"To see you…to talk to you…but mostly…to warn you."

"Warn me of what?"

"Of your friends, and their not so friendly intentions."

"Last time I checked, I didn't have many of those."

"You didn't look that far, then."

"And I guess your one I overlooked, Jason?"

"In a way." Reaching under his cowl, He pulled his mask back, and shook his sweat soaked hair from the pulled back position it had been stuck in since sundown. "You might find this hard to believe, Supes. But me and you, We're not as different as some would like to believe. Yes, You do have the invincible thing going. And the coming from another planet…But in all honesty, When you look at the grander picture, It's far more of a common scheme, then those small, and inane details."

Returning to the computer, He began to look through the clippings once more, No longer interested in what the man had to say, Or the reasons he had to say it. As far as he was concerned, This was nothing more then some trap Bruce had set, In order to get him out in the open, Away from the public. As no matter how badly Bruce wanted him off this planet, He would not dare enact a plan of attack, As long as their was even the slightest chance of collateral damage. And either would anyone he might be working with.

"Supes…Think about it. We both rose from the dead. We both lost a piece of ourselves at some point in time. We both lost the respect of that judgmental prick. And we both agree that locking people away forever, Isn't the best course of action. Especially when forever, In this world, Is over before the rice is done cooking."

"Your smart, Jason. I will give you that. Being trained by him, It'd be impossible for you not to be. But you are wearing his costume. And in order for you to do that, You must also be doing things his way. As there is very little chance he would allow you to do anything otherwise."

Smiling, The now mid-30's man looked toward the computer screen behind him, and nodded toward it. Saying, with a chuckle as a prefix "…who said I have his permission?"


	5. Chapter 5: The Eternal Cell

The sun having set, Jason Todd, Alias, The Batman, And Clark Kent, He who's name shan't be spoken, Stood on the roof of the library. Staring out at the New York sky, They watched as the city thrived, and hustled, Acting as if it was the only place in the world. Superman quickly lost interest, though. It was not the city he came to see. It was the world. And what had happened when he left it.

"7 years ago. The world got fed up with the Joker. Bruce, Ollie, Everyone, Had seen enough carnage out of this man to last a life time. But with his insanity plea always keeping him from the death penalty we all know he deserved, All anyone could do was throw him back in some cell, Each one more high security then the last, And watch as their hope that he not escape fall apart a short time after. So a plan was devised. We would do what no jury would allow us to do, Without them even knowing. We would put the Joker to death."

Eyes wide, Clark Kent turned his head away, Infuriated that those who would condemn him for his crimes, Would dare to do just what he wanted to do, Before they finally sent him away.

"But before you even think that this compares to what you did…Let me continue. They tried every normal means of execution you can think of. Lethal Injection, Electric Chair, Hanging. The worst he came out with was a rash. Turns out, Whatever made him into what he is, Didn't just affect his hair color. At some point, It made him almost invincible. Plastic man has a theory…That perhaps it's the fates way of making sure that he never rests…That he has to spend eternity with those sins on his mind. Which isn't much of a punishment…or it wasn't…Until they thought of it."

His attention regained, Superman looked down at the man he was now hovering over, And quickly lowered himself back down to earth. "sorry. What is this, IT?"

"They call it, The Eternal Cell. A singular room, somewhere on this planet where he was placed, to ensure that no living thing ever come in contact with him, ever again. He would be provided with enough food, and air. He would be given clean clothes, and a dry shower daily. He'd have access to medicine, if he ever got sick, Which no one seems to think is possible. He'd have everything he would need to survive. But survive only. No contact from the outside. No books, or television. Hell, I doubt they even give him a fork and knife."

"Where do you suppose they would build something like this?"

"Well…Let's think. Where would YOU build a prison, That you needed to sustain some form of life, But be too treacherous for any mortal person to gain access to. Someplace far enough for safety, But close enough for any emergency. A place, that despite our ever changing world, Would remain forever the same."

"…what are you saying, Jason?"

"I'm not saying anything, Clark." Lifting his cape into the air, He stepped to the edge of the roof, and looked back at the angry man, mouthing the word "fortress", Before pulling his cowl back over his face, And leaping into the darkness below, Vanishing instantly.

He thought of giving chase. He wanted a definite answer. He wanted to be looked in the eye, and to be told that the one place on the planet, that was supposed to be sacred to him, Had not been desecrated in this way. But he was not given what he wanted. He was given the exact opposite.

Falling to his knees, He covered his ears, As a pressure he had never felt before began to rip into his cranium. And all at once, The world began to discuss him. Children asked their parents to check for him in their closets. Husbands refused to go to bed, Out of fear of him arriving. Wives laid awake, Listening to the sound of their husbands heavy breathing, and wishing that someone would calm his fear. And send the monster that was Clark Kent, Back to wherever it is he came from.

And he rose.

Rose to his feet like he had in a thousand battles, With a thousand enemies. Taking to the sky, He followed the source of the sound, Leaving a sonic boom behind as the only trace of his presence. And within him, A rage began to build. But not because of their fear. Or because of their hatred, of superman. But because of their understanding, That superman, was Clark Kent.

As the source of the sound got closer, He knew the fight he was in for would not be the last he ever had. But it would be someone's. He was going to make sure of it.


	6. Chapter 6: A League Of Enemies

Dust kicked up into the air, As he came crashing down to the earth, cape torn and mouth sore. Looking up, He sought the person, or persons that had attacked him mid flite, and sent him to the desert below.

Listening to the sound of the world around him, He estimated that he was somewhere around Egypt, If not a bit further. Hard to tell, as the sounds of the world had changed since he last step foot on it. Imploring his x-ray vision, He traced the sky, and found, Not the one person who attacked him…But the four.

Lowering themselves from the sky, the four Green Lanterns that Sector 823 have been entrusted to, Surrounded the man of tomorrow, and encased him in the green light that is the fuel of their power. Taking center stage, the oldest of them all, Hal Jordan, Looked down on his former friend, and team mate, and called out to him in a voice of might.

"Clark Kent, by the power vested in me by the Guardians of OA, and the people of Earth, I hereby place you under galactic arrest, For the crime of three counts Murder."

Clark took a deep breath, and in the time it takes to blink, Hal Jordan, Kyle Rayner, Jon Stewart, and Guy Gardner, Found themselves tossed to the ground by a single exhaled breath, Only to be rushed upon the moment they hit, By a blue and red blur. Lifting Hal Jordan to his feet, by way of the throat, and stared deep into his eyes.

"Hal. You want to convict me of murder…Wait till I'm done."

Squeezing, Clark watched as Hal's body begged for air, And was denied immediately. Rising to their feet, Guy Gardner, and Jon Stewart quickly moved on Kent, Only to be put back down by two well placed heat vision shots to the legs, Immobilizing them instantly. Kyle Rayner on the other hand stayed where he had landed, and instead, Pointed his ring upward, Sending a large green flare, Before being exhaled away once more, This time, Out of even Kent's line of sight.

And miles away, As he watched Rayner vanish from sight, A man, A normal, every day man, Sat behind a large computer monitor, Leaned forward in his chair, and spoke into an ear piece. Speaking a single, simple, word.

"now."

And in a fashion that gives even him goosebumps, Bruce Wayne watches, As a force from up on high shows itself to its target, and relieves the pressure from the throat of Hal Jordan, and places it in his attackers.

Ripping across the desert, A streak of red collides with Kent, and throws him to the ground with enough force to shake the dunes surrounding them. Sliding to a stop, Kent looks up with eyes glowing red, and leaps to his feet, Flying at his attacker with full speed, Only to be blasted back by a bolt of lighting, Which was conjured by the sound of a single word.

Costume sizzling, He raises his head, With teeth gritting, and looks to the two men standing in front of him. With expressions of purpose and solidarity, Shazam and The Flash stand, Prepared for battle, with only the simplest of comments for the downed man of tomorrow.

"You aren't the only one who came back from the dead, kent."

Confusion then hit. It was not the voice of the flash he remembers. But that of the one he spent most of his time missing. Barry Allen. The first Flash he ever became friends with. The one that had been at his side through some difficult times, During both JLA times, and otherwise. But this was not those times. And he was not that friend.

Standing to his feet, Kent lunged at Shazam, Only to be cut off by Flash, And cracked in the face several times over, and hit with another bolt of lighting. Miles away, Observing, Bruce Wayne spoke out to all those listening.

"Secondary, Stand prepared. Flash is going to need back up if he keeps hitting Kent like this. Secondary, Come in, Do you copy? "

From the headset, a voice snapped back, annoyed by Bruce's self-appointed leadership. "I'm hearing you, dammit. Moving in now."

Shazam and Flash kept their attack on Kent moving. Hoping that the sound of two wings flapping, and a metal mace cutting the air along side it. But they don't.

Throwing Shazam into the Flash, Kent turns and catches Hawkman by the chest, and spiking him to the ground. Watching as he tries to rise to his feet, Kent takes a deep breath, and with pure hatred, Delivers a kick to Hawkmans midsection, Sending his torso one way, and his legs the other.

And as the blood of one of Earths mightiest sinks into the sand, Hal Jordan stands. While the last words of Hawkman can be heard, So do Stewart, and Gardner. And with a scream of anger, The word shazam conurs a lighting bolt, That strikes Kent at the heart of what he once was, Burning the S from his chest completely. And they stand, Ready, and willing, To do to Kent, What Kent has done to the worlds faith in them, and their faith in each other. And they won't be doing it alone. And Kent knows it. Never leaving anything to chance, These men would not show their entire hand at once. And if this is the opening, He only wonders, What the big gun is.

Maybe it was time to bring him out.

"Okay, Bruce. You've motivated your troops to the point of one losing his life. How much further are you prepared to let this go? Are you willing to watch me dismantle every single one of them? Are you willing to have this much blood on your hands?"

Guy Gardner limped forward, Favoring his right leg more then his left, For the obvious reason that his right leg was still smoking. Gritting his teeth, Gardner said what everyone was thinking, But in his own personal way.

"Hey Alf…We wouldn't be here if we weren't willing to go down fighting. So why don't you shut your trap…and bring it on already. Some of us have lives to get back to. Wait, Did I say lives? Sorry, I meant **wives.**"

"Couldn't have said it better myself, Guy."

Turning, Clark came face to face with Kyle Rayner, Ragman, and Mr. Freeze. Forming a circle around him, Clark Kent stared at each of his opponents, One at a time. His eyes glowing darker by the moment, and fist squeezing tighter.

And lunging forward, Flash came. A blur of fists flailing.

Leaping upward, Ragman dove, Enhancing his strength with the souls of every criminal he had within his patch work, Demanding they assist him in one, final fight.

Rings forward, The Green Lanterns took aim, And Clark Kent found himself encompassed in their green light.

Running in a circle, Mr. Freeze shot the area around Kent's feet, Taking away his footing, and giving him no choice but to take to the air.

As the battle truly begins.

Standing by a large monitor, The bearded man watches the city, 50 stories below, Thrive in its own, mediocre way. Feeling a presence in the room, He turns, And watches as The Batman lands on the floor just behind him.

"Good news, I trust."

"He's on his way there now. And unless the others stop him, We should be in business by tomorrow. We should leave now if we want to be there in time."

"Time will not be a problem, much longer..."

Removing his mask, Jason Todd joined Vandal Savage at the large monitor, and pressed a single button. Conjuring blue prints up for some sort of device. A large tube, With two large canon like objects on either side. But in the center, a small piece blinks, As the word "required" continues to blink in the corner. Looking to each other, They turn away, and vanish down a long, dark corridor, Picking up their pace with every step.


End file.
